Flowers from a Ghost
by qlory
Summary: Like the idiot she is, Mari forgets how she became a dead ghost a little too quickly and ends up kind of alive just as fast. This would be cool, but now it seems like she's stuck with Uchiha Matsuri during the turmoil of the Third Shinobi World War until the day the girl dies. (OC-Insert)


**notes** : i changed nagako's name, since her name reminded me of nagato too much.

* * *

chapter one :: mariality

* * *

Waking up with little to no fanfare, the eight year old girl with a rather cherubic face greets the morning with nothing more than a single word:

" _Fuck_."

Right when it comes out, Matsuri blinks in confusion. That weird sound had slipped out of her mouth without thinking, and while it should've _stayed_ as a random noise, Matsuri almost finds it...deliberate. Intentional. A sigh of exasperation, almost.

But well, she's probably overthinking it. She usually does.

As father likes to say, if she ever dies, it's probably partly because Matsuri gets too lost in thoughts and mirages that she should control, manipulate, _dominate_.

She can already see the intimidating look on his face, and Matsuri shivers due to anything but the cold of the morning air.

Matsuri still doesn't bother getting up from the comforting warmth of her blankets though, even though her mind's kickstarted into gear and her thoughts race with newfound adrenaline. Her bed's too warm to abandon, the sound of birds chirping outside is ridiculously soothing, and the upcoming day isn't going to be fun to face, what with the fact that she could potentially not end up with a high ranking teacher or not eventually redirected to the Police if her failure of a cousin miraculously does better than her on the upcoming test.

The very last test Matsuri has to take, _ever_ , in fact. While this should've motivated her to get the following twenty four hours done and over with, it has the opposite effect. And not even Matsuri's sure why, or what's gotten into her.

Matsuri is dreading it all, weirdly enough, even though she's been looking forward to being completely free of obligations of sitting at a long desk and having her classmates kick her under the table or knock her elbow to the side and mess up her writing so that there's an extra stroke in her kanji or something.

The weird, awful feeling doesn't go away, even as Matsuri rolls across her bed from side to side. Matsuri feels sick to her stomach, and even though she should be worried about that, she almost feels relieved about the prospect.

Her eyes flicker to the side uneasily, and that's when she spots the clock perched next to her head.

" _I'm dead_ ," she breathes, but it comes out mangled with the "dead" part as something akin to " _shit_ ". Another weird sound she finds deliberate. It's like she wants to purposefully mess up everything she's been doing today, even though she's only been awake for a few minutes at most. Figures.

But with the reminder of how she might be late, how she might slander her name for life, how Matsuri is going to seem exactly like the one blood relative she should never emulate— Matsuri bites her lower lip _hard_ , but not enough to taste blood in her mouth. Which was good, at least. The last time she did so, she was scolded for leaving traces of her blood that could be utilised.

If she doesn't get a handle on her nerves and her insistent urge to just hide away in some forest until the day ends, Matsuri could get disowned for her antics, in the worst case scenario. It wasn't in her blood to be cowardly like this.

What was she _doing_? She was practically acting like her cousin, or one of her other classmates. Just the thought made her face flush out of sheer embarrassment.

Matsuri practically rips off her blankets in her haste to get up and running. All of her intent to face the world with her head held high like it should be held might've even been reflected in her gaze as she bid her parents a curt farewell after she finished her breakfast at the table and left the house early for school, instead of her newfound determination being attributed to her usual attitude in the morning and the fact that she hates natto with a burning passion, especially when it's the first thing she has to swallow to start off her day. Not that those reasons didn't apply to her frustration, but it's really just the weird panic clawing at her insides.

Definitely, the thought of losing was the cause of the bile threatening to make its way up Matsuri's throat, even if her reaction right now was a little overboard. It wasn't like this was an important day that affected her career choices later in life, or like she had the expectations of her father on her shoulders, _especially_ with the way he had made veiled comments about her expected success on the upcoming test earlier, or anything, Matsuri thought rather sarcastically to herself.

But at the very least, she _has_ expectations. Her parents raised her better. She's born better.

Matsuri can't say the same for the excuse of a cousin in her class. The thought makes her giggle a little as she winds her way to the Academy building, yawning every so often.

And sure, it might've been cruel to think of a blood relation like that so offhandedly, but Matsuri didn't really care. It's not like her cousin was good enough to garner the good graces of her father, and it wasn't like he ever paid particular attention to her either. Rather, they both avoided each other, as their clan had the predisposition to do regarding prospective shinobi and kunoichi.

Not that the familiarity of insulting him in her head in order to make her feel happier helps her today, either.

That's when Matsuri really begins to think that her day's just not going to get any better.

Matsuri was running out of ideas to make herself feel confident about what's ahead of her short of asking her Hyuuga classmate to fight her before school like a common delinquent and shoving his face into the ground, and the sick feeling in her stomach gets worse and worse as she gets closer and closer to the Academy.

The only thing that prevents her from turning tail and fleeing is the fan stitched into the back of her shirt, but it's a very, _very_ close thing.

* * *

When Matsuri finally sits down in a seat at the back of the classroom, she feels so bad that she's considering if dying by nerves is a legitimate method of death and if it's possible to weaponise it for the village, so that she'd at least go down in history somehow.

She studiously ignores the murmured greetings she receives from her peers in favour of concentrating on _not_ letting herself run off and hide in the bathroom. And right when Matsuri feels like the mindless conversations around her are contributing to her sudden headache, and that she might actually be able to get out of this situation by claiming sickness and _fleeing_ , the low murmur of chatter in the classroom comes to an abrupt halt right when the minute hand of the clock turns.

Scarily on time, a ninja opens the door at that precise moment and moves to the front of the class with his usually severe look on his face. Matsuri has never felt less glad to see his frightening expression than in this moment, though. Everyone else seems to agree, what with the uncomfortable glances being darted this and that way across the classroom in the stilted silence caused by the ninja's presence. It's a new face this time.

None of them would ever see Katou-sensei again.

It's a shame, because Matsuri had liked the cheery way that he had led the class, and the personal anecdotes he would drop here and there as he taught them. His stories of collaborating with Suna ninja and their various poisons and puppetry techniques were rather informative when it came time for Matsuri to attend kunoichi classes, at least. Not that anything that Katou-sensei had spoken about was useful enough to tell Matsuri if the way she was currently swallowing thickly in order stop herself from vomiting could be due to food poisoning or not.

"Alright," the teacher says, eyes not bothering to sweep across the room in order to check to see if anyone was paying attention. It'd be redundant for him to do so— all of their bodies are taut with tension; even that prick Hyuuga Seiichi seems to have a straighter spine than usual, if that was even possible for him.

The written graduation exam. All of the current students in the classroom had gotten through the practical one, so this was the last obstacle before they could gain more autonomy during this precarious time in the village, where it was difficult even for a prestigious ninja clan to justify leaving the place for anything short of an authorized mission. And Matsuri _wants_ to gain that kind of freedom. She's always _wanted_ , even though she's not quite sure why.

It's the reason she enters the Academy when she's allowed to, the reason she stays up late at night and plays with the numbing feeling of chakra running through her veins, the reason she has to swallow down her fear day and night, other than the weight of her family's name pressing down on her shoulders. So she also stills in her seat, gaze trained on the new figure at the front.

"Let's get this over with, kids," the new ninja drawls, lifting up some papers in his hand. "Keep quiet as I call your names, sit back down, and when we've gotten through everyone, flip it over when I say so. If not, you're out."

He pauses, blue gaze sweeping the room again to gauge if there was any particular person who wanted to talk back, before sighing and barking out names in a seemingly random order.

"...Uchiha Matsuri."

She almost doesn't hear her name being called. Jolting, Matsuri practically shoves her elbow into the desk in order to push herself up and turns to face the ninja with a queasy feeling in her gut. Her hands are clammy as she holds onto the papers hard enough to make them crumple, and Matsuri shakily covers her mouth once the ninja's gaze flits to another student who is put under his scrutiny. Her breath is shallow and ready and Matsuri's head _throbs_ , like her brain's straining to break out of her skull the way she currently wants to get out of the room before this unnecessary panic attack overcomes her.

For a fleeting moment, Matsuri steals a glance at the dark tufts of hair in front of her, and upon seeing the expression on the boy's face, she exhales heavily. There was no reason for this kind of reaction. This exam wasn't going to kill her.

This exam wasn't going to kill her.

...Matsuri can't quite bring herself to _believe it_ , and even that particular wording just seems wrong and distorted to her, like her own vision.

"—Alright," the new teacher says in a slightly louder voice, looking dead eyed at the prospect of having to sit and supervise a bunch of antsy kids. "Begin."

There's a moment of disbelief, before papers flip over hurriedly, as quickly as Matsuri's own stomach turns when the word registers in her aching head. At that precise moment, her pencil stabs into the exam in front of her, and Matsuri squeezes her eyes shut in order to force down her nausea resolutely.

This _wasn't_ going to kill her.

* * *

Matsuri is dead. Dead, dead, _dead_. And not even just in terms of the exam itself.

Matsuri's left hand clenches into a fist, and she digs in her nails into her palm, as if the pain would make her remember exactly how related rates worked. And as if her announcing her own death mentally had cued it, an awful taste seeps into Matsuri's mouth. The dark haired girl lets her head impact the desk as her face screws up.

She might actually be sick. Scratch that, she's very sure she's sick. She's _this_ close to hurling.

Not that Matsuri could blame something like illness for how she's drawing a blank and has evidently forgotten how to do simple math. When her face twists again, the cause for the change in her expression has nothing to do with pain.

There's no way that she can explain something like failing to solve something like _this_ to her father.

At this rate, she's going to end up placing lower than her dead last of a cousin, end up as a laughingstock in the Genin Corps of all places, get insulted and looked down at for the rest of her life, and eventually be forced to either use the clan signature technique of the Great Fireball Technique or some random revered sword in one of the storehouses in order to commit honourable suicide—

All because she can't figure out the stupid velocity this supposed chakra enhanced kunai would have.

Matsuri kind of _wants_ to die, if she's not already dead yet.

Another sharp, awful headache thuds insistently in her head, and Matsuri has to shut her eyes in order to deal with the god awful ringing in her ears—

"...how scary, little kids doing this kind of math...geez, is number forty six 45.293 meters per second, maybe? If that's even possible, even with this chakra value or whatever..."

Matsuri sits up ramrod straight, blinking spots out of her vision, and whips her head around to pinpoint whoever had spoken up.

Who was that?

"You mean me?"

Matsuri's pretty sure that voice came from her own seat. She jumps, and while she doesn't flood her side of the bench with chakra in fear that she'd get kicked out for trying to cheat or whatever by the ninja watching the class, the girl relaxes her muscles purposefully so that she could get out of dodge if her table blew up or something.

"Hey, I'm not that kind of person!" The voice glibly protests, taken off guard as if _any_ of Matsuri's concerns are unwarranted. "I'm not going to kill you by blowing you up!"

How else, then? Matsuri practically grumps in her best attempt to imitate her father's tone. It comes out more childish than she likes, considering it was all thought in her own head.

"Relax, okay, geez! Paranoid much!" At the increasingly suspicious feelings Matsuri radiates, the voice seems to rethink their words. "— _Fine_ , here, I'll help you through all of this to prove that I'm not out for your blood or whatever, alright?"

Matsuri mulls that over for a beat. Well, she's not going to _pass up_ the opportunity to do nothing. That'd be stupid.

As Matsuri mindlessly finishes writing down whatever her new mental hallucination tells her, she begins to read it all over half heartedly. Even if some part of Matsuri felt wronged by having to be guided through the entire thing, the thought process of how the answers had came about had somewhat filtered through to Matsuri by some strange connection that she felt with this voice, whatever it was. Whatever she was, really, if this was the kind of thing Matsuri thought up in moments of stress.

"Aww, that's a nice thought!" The voice pipes up. "Though, yeah, I wonder if you're maybe a moon alien..."

What is it even going on about, Matsuri wants to snap. And more importantly, what _is_ it?

"Mm... I guess I'm like, not human now?" The voice muses, stating the obvious with what Matsuri thinks is way too much surprise. "So I'm like, a ghost? Well, I mean, it's not like I'm not a weea _boo_ , so."

What does that even _mean_?

"Time's up."

The stern voice makes Matsuri flinch, and she gazes nervously at the rather bored looking man with his cheek resting on the back of his palm.

By the time the entire exam is over, Matsuri is practically the first one out of the classroom in her haste to find a private space to try and exorcise herself or something.

* * *

At least her dizzy spell seems to have passed, though with the exam done and over with, everything kind of hits her all at once the moment she finds herself safely hidden away in her house.

Her breath comes out too loudly, her hands keep shaking, and if there's only one thing that Matsuri hates at this moment it's her _own self_.

"...Well, that was morbid. Are you considered a teenager in this place or something? Is that what this weird chakra energy is, drugs? I could've cut myself open with how edgy that thought was, geez."

"I'll cut _you_ open," Matsuri lets the words slide out of her mouth in a single breath, so much so that she's not sure if she said anything other than 'kuyuopin', but it's really the thought that counts. Her hands clench into fists, and Matsuri almost wishes that Tanaka and his ugly mug was here so that she could punch his lights out without remorse and with minimal pain.

As it is, punching herself is rather counterproductive if she ever needs to defend her actions by claiming self defense.

The voice in her head radiates complete discomfort at that serious thought. While Matsuri wishes she could be happy about that kind of effect on said voice, the uncomfortable emotion itself skews and twists her own mood into a mess of uncertainty, and Matsuri finds it difficult to keep a handle on her anger as a niggling suspicion comes to mind.

Wouldn't her emotions be separate, if she was a different entity to whatever these thoughts were?

"How would you cut me though...I'm kinda dead?" The high pitched thought asks, breaking into Matsuri's concentration, as if Matsuri has any idea on how alive they are. Or if it's even a "they" she should be using to refer to the voice, and not "I".

"Going crazy," Matsuri ends up muttering under her breath, as she continues to press her back against the bathroom door, left hand braced against the doorknob. "Seriously, seriously going nuts, I really shouldn't have let mother feed me chestnut rice of all things if it's just going to end up making me loopy."

"It's okay, I think I'm the one who's channeling all of my weeb into a full blown hallucination," the voice says rather cheerily. "Doubt the two of us are like, a full blown person on top of that, so you're probably safe from me. Probably."

The unfamiliar term throws Matsuri off of whatever she was winding herself up to say to this... "Your what?"

She can practically feel the beaming smile, somehow. "See? If _you_ knew what _I_ was talking about, _I'd_ be _you_!"

"What," Matsuri repeats flatly.

"Yeah," the voice echoes unhelpfully.

Matsuri narrows her dark eyes at basically nothing but the toilet, as her hand comes up to brush annoying fly away strands of her hair away from her face in an almost defensive gesture. "...That," she begins, before her irritation just runs out of steam and she slumps against the door behind her. "If you're not me, then would you _go away_? Thanks," she tacks on.

A long silence. "Uhhh, I don't really know how. Also wow, that reaction was kinda ungrateful...I guided you through that entire test! If I wasn't smart, you'd be sitting through hours of passive aggressive remarks about you doing nothing but ungratefully leeching off your family for your entire life! Something like that." Their voice shifts to a more pensive tone as they mutter, "Weird, did your memories bleed into mine or something...? Is that how the self insert genre is supposed to go?" to themselves.

Matsuri really has nothing to say against that.

"How did you get here, then?" she hisses, ignoring the rest of the voice's words. With that question also comes a distinct sense of unease. Really, between getting through the Academy, dodging her cousins and that uptight Hyuuga in particular, and running to the lavatory of all places she could've gone in her room, Matsuri hasn't really been able to devote all of her concern to wondering where the answers to all of that written exam had magically come from other than her head, even if it was in a weird voice.

"Meeeh."

Matsuri doesn't even hesitate. "That was a great show of your higher intelligence, smart person."

"Yeah, thanks!" they say shamelessly. "Kneeew it, Matsuri's not cute for nothing!"

That wasn't what she...

Fighting back the automatic flush threatening to show itself on her face due to this weirdo in their head, and Matsuri resigns herself to opening the door again once she's sure that she's got somewhat of a handle on her facial expression. "You sound like aunt Kiyoko, now."

"Du du _duuu_ ~" the voice just sings instead of deigning to reply properly to her, as Matsuri makes her way across the wooden floors of her house. She could almost imagine whatever it is having a physical body and spinning around in circles happily. " _Wheee_!"

"Do you ever shut up," Matsuri mourns.

"Sometimes?"

" _No_ ," she bites out under her breath as Matsuri steps into her room, sliding the door behind her a little too hard when her newfound urge to strangle something becomes very clear to Matsuri herself. The resulting slam of the door frame against the wall makes Matsuri wince a little, as does the sharp, "Rude!" that's pitched too high for Matsuri's comfort.

"No, no, _no_ ," Matsuri continues just for the sake of it. Maybe if she repeats the word enough, the voice would get a hint and stop talking.

They didn't. "Yeah, this is a house, Miss Obvious."

"My name is Uchiha Matsuri, you idiot," Matsuri says indignantly, "I bet _you_ don't have a name of your own, do you!"

"Of course I have a name," the voice complains. "I'm a person too, you know!"

"Way to _lie_ —"

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm not lying, and my name's Mari!"

At this new revelation, Matsuri just sighs heavily. Then the words properly register, and she gets even more aggravated. "Did you just _steal my name_?"

"What's with that unwarranted accusation? If anything, you stole my name!" Mari or whatever retorts back heatedly.

At this point, Matsuri's had had enough of this whole debacle, as she focuses her chakra into a single point.

" _Dissipate_!"

A hopeful silence.

"Were you talking to me...?"

...Matsuri really should've been more surprised that this wasn't an illusion, and that she apparently developed schizophrenia or something.

"Why don't you just _go die_ ," Matsuri spits out, aggrieved. As if the world was punishing her, her head suddenly _pounds_ , spinning with thoughts that're all too scrambled for her to make sense of, and she can't help but pinch the bridge of her nose for some kind of relief instead of an act of frustration. She doesn't quite succeed, and Matsuri would scream if she just let herself.

Mari laughs awkwardly, discomfited by the amount of vitriol in those words. "I'm... pretty sure I'm already dead?"

Great. Well, maybe if Matsuri goes to sleep, she'll wake up and this terrible dream will be over, and this awful headache would—

* * *

 **endnotes** :

yes, the arc titles from here on out are still probably going to end up as puns, if i've got an accurate enough impression of my own quirks. anyways, the one here just combines "mari" and "reality".

its kind of symbolic for matsuri tying mari down into her reality, the narutoverse, or "marrying" mari to it, you could say. marriage is just legally binding two people together anyways, so whether or not matsuri and mari are connected by anything deeper than these weird hallucinations is up for debate, especially since uchihas are practically known for their weird illusionary stuff. maybe matsuris eternal gratitude for not punting her into the life of an unmentioned background character, if she ever knows that she's fictional.

also, the whole "i'm dead" thing comes out as something like "watashi wa shinda" normally, so matsuri messes up those words by saying something similar to "watashi wa shit", or "i'm shit", if you were curious about that tidbit. the "yeah, this is a house, miss obvious" part is also mari messing with matsuri really, since "ie" is "house", while "iie" is "no".


End file.
